Silver Bells
by SydnieWren
Summary: Though he's out of school for the holidays, Ichigo still manages to learn a thing or two from Urahara. UraxIchi. Oral.


**Hey guys, just wanted to put something cute and light out as the holidays approach. Have good ones! As always, please review.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Ichigo tugged his gloves on with his teeth as he shrugged his coat over his arms, stumbling into his boots at the door. Before zipping his outer layer, he shoved that glorious bit of paper into his hoodie pocket and called over his shoulder that he was going out.

"Aah, where you headed?"

His father stood in the doorway drying a dish.

"Spending the night at a friend's house," he yelled, already halfway down the steps of his porch. Isshin appeared at the front door, glancing after him.

"Don't you need sleep clothes?" he called.

"I'll uh, borrow some! See you later!"

He dashed down the street completely unwary of the ice lining the sidewalk, and the frosty air at his nose and lips. Flurries of snow drifted down from the slate gray sky, settling on the already accumulated banks pressed to the curb by the plows. Every lawn was hidden beneath layers and layers of snow and ice; the area had been frozen since late November. The ponds had long ago become ice-skating rinks, which Ichigo had been compelled to take his sisters to. Icicles hung from eaves like fairy-tale tinsel; they glittered beautifully alongside the colored lights.

Of course, Ichigo wasn't one for scenery. The wintry glory flashed by him as he pursued his run, intent on making record time.

Inside the shop, Urahara hadn't exactly been waiting for the boy, but he had a strong suspicion that he would be dropping by. Since the mid-summer, Ichigo had taken to hanging around the shop, alternating between nicking food and dragging Urahara off to explore his newfound 'maturity'.

Thus, when the boy threw open the shop door to the sound of silver bells hung on the handle, Urahara simply glanced up from his magazine with a wave and a smile.

Ichigo stumbled inside, panting and licking his dried lips. Urahara suspected he would veer off into the kitchen to hunt around for hot chocolate or cookies, but he doggedly approached the counter, reaching inside his coat to dig for something. When he arrived at his destination, he stood proudly and slapped a piece of paper down on Urahara's magazine, shoving it toward him with a wide grin.

"Ah, what's this?" Urahara peered down at the slip.

"Can't you read? Check it out!" Ichigo put his hands on his hips and waited expectantly.

Urahara deduced quickly that it was a report card.

"Let's just see..." he murmured, leaning on his forearm as he looked over Ichigo's marks.

English was a surprising 76. Japanese was an expected 79 - just on the edge of being pretty impressive for the boy. Biology was a 73, and then Urahara saw it - the two aspects of the card Ichigo was certainly most proud of. Firstly, he had scored a 91 in math. Secondly, he had passed all of his mid-term exams.

"Ah, very well done, Kurosaki-kun! Hats off to you!"

As usual, Urahara was the only one to laugh at his joke. Still, Ichigo was positively glowing at the praise.

"Pretty good, huh? That pencil dick Ishida won't have any reason to laugh at me now!" And there was that same toothy grin.

"Your father must have been very impressed, eh? I bet you'll get out of snow shoveling for at least a week."

A quizzical look passed over Ichigo's face and he scratched his head.

"Actually, I haven't shown it to him."

"No?" Urahara raised an eyebrow and then broke into his high chuckle. "Ah, Kurosaki-kun is growing up! Showing off to his lover before his parent!"

Ichigo scowled and snatched his report card up, shoving it back into his pocket and drawing up his shoulders.

"Shut up," he groused, "I just forgot, whatever."

"I'm honored," Urahara assured him. "Looking for a reward, Kurosaki-kun? You've certainly earned one..."

"Yeah?" Ichigo muttered, "Like what?"

"Well," Urahara replied lightly, "Tessai and the kids are making cookies, I believe, and Yoruichi brought by some cocoa earlier, though I'm not entirely convinced it's age appropriate..."

"I ain't some kind of kid!" Ichigo snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter.

"No?" Urahara leaned toward him. "Well then, I suppose we could discuss this matter further upstairs."

Ichigo glanced about narrow-eyed as if seriously contemplating the proposition.

"Whatever," he finally mumbled.

"Well then!" Urahara closed his magazine and rounded the counter, heading toward the stairs. He paused for a moment to call over his shoulder,

"Tessai - got the shop for a moment?"

He didn't hear a response, but he didn't mind; he was halfway up the stairs when he realized Ichigo wasn't in tow. Sighing, he climbed back down and peered around the corner.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo dashed out of the kitchen with a cookie stuffed in his mouth, chewing rapidly as he hopped along, ridding himself of his snow boots.

Urahara raised his eyebrows, amused.

"Couldn't resist?"

"I was really hungry!" Ichigo spat, furrowing his eyebrows. "I was busy today!"

"Of course," Urahara nodded, offering a mock-solemn expression.

Ichigo shoved him up the stairs much to his amusement; he moved along as expected, and the boy followed him into his room.

"So, Ichigo. What's on the menu tonight?"

It had come to send shivers down his spine when Urahara used his first name; something good always followed when it happened. He glanced around as if to make sure the room was empty save for them, and then crossed his arms.

"Well, Renji's been talking...about some stuff."

"Some stuff?"

"Well he said he was with this girl, and they were doing stuff, and, you know, he said it was pretty good."

"I think I might need a bit more detail," Urahara settled on the bed and leaned back, watching the boy as he began to pace.

"Like...with her mouth."

Understanding lit the older man's eyes and he nodded knowingly before looking quite suddenly confused.

Ichigo stopped anxiously and glared at him.

"What's up with you, pervert? Seems like something you'd probably be into."

"It's not exactly an uncommon thing, Ichigo. And I thought I'd already given you one, but I suppose I really haven't. Hm."

"Given me what?" Ichigo tossed him a defensive glare.

Urahara cleared his throat.

"Well, they're colloquially known as blow jobs."

He let it sink in for a moment, almost certain that Renji would be the type to use such terminology.

"I think the proper term is oral sex."

"Yeah..." Ichigo muttered, "A blow job. That was it."

Urahara chuckled - he'd hit it on the head; Renji truly was easy to figure. He sat up somewhat and realized Ichigo thought he had been laughing at him. At least, he figured, the situation would be easy to diffuse.

"Do you want one, Ichigo?"

The boy shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and looked away.

"Well, uh - do you like, know how?"

Urahara bit back a grin.

"I've never had any complaints," he replied.

"Yeah, you've probably done it like a hundred times, you pervert." Ichigo seemed proud of his smug satisfaction, and Urahara found it too charming to resist.

"Only one hundred, Ichigo? That might be an understatement. Why don't you come over here and reap the benefits of my promiscuity?"

Huffing, Ichigo approached, sliding his winter coat off his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. Urahara welcomed him with gentle hands on his hips, massaging the jutting bones beneath though the denim of his well-worn jeans. Ichigo's hand came to rest delicately on his shoulder as he nuzzled the boy through his pants; he noticed only a moment later that the kid had also snatched his hat. He felt the boy's sex harden behind the cloth, and immediately glanced up to catch the wince as his sensitive flesh pressed against the constricting fabric.

"Come here," Urahara urged, sliding his hand around the small of the boy's back, "lay down."

"Wait!"

Urahara gazed incredulously up at the boy.

"Renji said you do it standing up."

The blond rolled his eyes.

"Abarai, a font of wisdom. It's better if you lay down -"

But Ichigo pushed his shoulder back when he leaned in to open his jeans.

"You have to do it standing up," he insisted, and Urahara began to suspect that Ichigo's persistence was another aspect of his eternal competition with Renji.

"Ah, well. Ichigo wants it dirty. The things I do!"

He rose as Ichigo scowled and moved aside, giving the blond room to work with. Urahara moved behind him, however, inciting him to turn, his back to the bed, calves pressed against it.

Urahara did not expect him to be standing for very long, and wanted to avoid an embarrassing incident if at all possible.

"Now, where were we?" Urahara sank down to his knees before the redhead, taking his time with his caresses and kisses, tugging down the zipper of his sweater to push up his t-shirt and kiss along the flat plane of his stomach, dipping his tongue into the small navel. Ichigo sucked in a sharp breath and brought a hand to tangle in blond hair.

When he reached his knees, he slipped open the button of the boy's jeans, and tugged the tab of the zipper down with his teeth, easing the garment down until Ichigo's boxers were exposed, his rigid sex visible underneath. He had to hand it to the kid: he kept up with the seasons. Currently his boxers were dotted with snowflakes, and he could remember an ones with autumn leaves, and some with hearts.

"Kisuke..." Ichigo moaned, his breath catching in his throat. Urahara realized rather sheepishly that he had been breathing against that tender flesh, teasing the boy with warmth.

Again he held Ichigo's sharp hips, and began to mouth his sex through his underwear, kissing and stroking with his lips. Ichigo's fingers flexed in his hair and his hips gave small jerks; by the time Urahara lowered his boxers, a wet spot had formed in them.

Ichigo gasped as the cool air surrounded his impossibly hot sex, raising gooseflesh all along his arms and shoulders.

Urahara glanced up at him one last time, watching as his brows knitted together and his eyes drifted shut.

Well practiced fingers closed around the boy's arousal, thumb slipping beneath, trailing up the rigid shaft. Ichigo made a strangled noise in the back of his throat when Urahara thumbed that sensitive place just underneath the head, and the cry subsided to panting as the man slowly stroked him.

When Urahara laved his tongue over the tip, the boy's entire body tensed, followed by a sharp cry. He delicately kissed the small slit, sucking at the clear fluid dripping from it, something that seemed to take Ichigo by surprise: his thighs tensed and his fingers clenched in blond hair. The pull was tight and not exactly pleasant, but he ignored it, chalking it up to the boy's inexperience. Ichigo arched his hips when the older man ran his tongue up and down his sex, slicking it.

By the time Urahara took the boy's sex into his mouth, the redhead was trembling. As he inched along, easing the entirety of Ichigo's arousal into his mouth, he massaged the underside carefully with his teasing tongue, cupping and pressing, licking as best he could. Just as the head came to rest against the back of Urahara's throat - relaxed enough to accept the urgent flow of precum - the redhead lost a fair amount of control. He grasped that blond hair in his fingers and thrust forward, moaning hoarsely, gasping and crying his lover's name.

Urahara struggled not to gag, breathing sharply through his nose and struggling to swallow repeatedly to trick his reflex - he was rewarded with sharper, deeper thrusts as the boy doubtlessly approached orgasm.

He held Ichigo's hips in a vice-like grip, rising up into a kneeling position to gain better control, ceasing to resist the boy's forceful motions. Ichigo moaned desperately and bent over him and forced him closer; Urahara wasn't sure how much more he would be able to take -

Presently the boy's arousal slipped from his mouth, leaving him gasping for air. Urahara licked his lips - had Ichigo come? Perhaps he had been so far inside that he hadn't even felt it -

But of course, that wasn't the case.

Just as he had suspected, the boy had fallen back on the bed, legs wide open, sex straining. He brought himself up on his hands and reached out for Urahara wordlessly, apparently incapable of forming anything utter than pleading, broken cries and insistent growls. The blond fell back to his knees and approached, stilling Ichigo's frustrated bucking with hands on his thighs. It would at least give him better control, Urahara figured -

And then there were fingers in his hair again, and Ichigo was - caressing him, begging in his own silent way. Urahara rewarded the boy for his tenderness by raising up slightly and craning his neck, giving him best access to his throat, this time ready for what the redhead had in store.

When he dipped down, nestling his nose against the boy's smooth skin, Ichigo fairly screamed, sliding his hand lower, encouraging the movement, rolling his hips as best he could with Urahara steadying his thighs. The blond, in turn, began to move quickly and suck hard, swallowing around his lover, moaning deep in his throat to send vibrations up the terribly sensitive flesh.

Very shortly, Ichigo warned Urahara with an incredibly strained moan, bordering on a scream -

"Kisuke - Kisuke - I'm, I - I'm gonna - gonna come!"

And perhaps he had expected the blond to pull away, but he sucked the boy in deeper than ever, and Ichigo bucked hard, crying out, trembling with the strength of his orgasm, eyes squeezed shut, pulse pounding in his ears. When he fell limp, Urahara finally released his sex, sitting back to breathe in deep and lick his lips.

"God damn, Ichigo," he mumbled, "a lesser man could not handle you."

"Yeah..." the redhead panted, unable to gather the strength to sit up, "I guess it's pretty big."

Urahara resisted the urge to laugh.

"You could have at least told me you wanted to face-fuck me, and not tricked me into it with the promise of an innocent blowjob," he groused, still clearing his throat.

There was a brief pause, and Urahara climbed into the bed to gaze down into the deep brown eyes, softened for the moment with the aftershocks of euphoria.

"Sorry," Ichigo muttered, frowning up at him, "guess I just got really into it or something."

"Or something?" Urahara teased.

Presently the boy's brow furrowed in a quizzical expression.

"But...hey. If you're not supposed to - to - y'know, move...Then how do you get, like, you know. How do you get it...like you want it?"

"Well," Urahara answered, running his fingers through soft red hair, "you can always ask for it. It's typically considered good manners to either ask for what you need or urge gently. Normally, the one doing the sucking does most of the moving."

Ichigo blushed darkly and glanced away, scowling.

That was, until Urahara trailed a fingertip down his cheek, brushing over his supple lips.

"Perhaps I could show you?" he offered softly, guiding the boy's hand down to his clothed, rigid sex.

Months ago, Ichigo would have gasped and shrunk back - but he had come to a profound level of comfort with the elder man, and he began to knead the hard flesh, an act that brought on a soft, approving groan from the blond.

Urahara eased the boy's shirt over his head and began to shed his own clothing, sliding out of layer after layer until he was nude, all corded muscles and well-defined planes.

"Why'd you get naked?" Ichigo inquired in an unsure whisper.

"So you can touch me."

"But you're already hard."

"Ah, Ichigo. I'm a delicate man; I need a little foreplay!"

The boy grudgingly moved over him, straddling his hips and propping himself up on his hands. Urahara grinned wolfishly beneath him and laced his fingers behind his head, cradling his abused scalp. Ichigo frowned and glanced away.

"What do you want me to do," he grumbled.

"Touch me however you like, Ichigo," the blond sighed contentedly and let his eyes drift shut.

"I'd like to punch you in the face," he muttered.

"You can't think of a single way to touch me?" Urahara inquired, briefly opening his eyes to click his tongue at the boy. He dropped the tone of his voice a pitch or two and gazed searingly up at Ichigo. "Is there no place you'd like to explore, nothing you want to feel? Is there really nowhere on me you'd like to put your lips or fingers, not even to pleasure me, make me -"

"Shut up!" the boy snapped, growing visibly hot and bothered by the blond's suggestions.

"As you wish," Urahara sighed lightly.

Ichigo tentatively moved downward, still quite unsure of himself but loathe to show it. He kissed his lover's chest and trailed downward, stopping to run his hands, enthralled, over the ridged plane of his stomach. Urahara rewarded him with an arch and a breathy moan, somewhat amused by the boy's endearingly honest attempt. He ran his tongue all along the contours of those muscles, lapping here and there, and though it was something like being bathed by a cat, Urahara found it inexplicably erotic.

"Oh, Ichigo..." he moaned, rising to meet that soft pink tongue.

"You ready now?" there was a hint of apprehension in the tone, a shade of hesitation.

"I'm ready, Ichigo." Urahara assured him warmly, spreading his legs open to provide the boy space.

Nestled in position, Ichigo felt his heart flutter. He leaned down, gulping, and kissed the tip of Urahara's sex as the man had done his own. His lips were dry and incredibly soft, like feathers on Urahara's flesh. The blond shivered and murmured a surprised 'oh'.

Shortly he realized Ichigo was waiting for the direction he had been promised.

"Try getting it really wet," he offered gently, "it'll help."

The tip of Ichigo's tongue came to trace gingerly along the underside of Urahara's cock, spreading to cup as he began to lick him with startling energy.

"You can use your hands," Urahara breathed huskily, nearly shuddering from the sensation.

Ichigo took the suggestion and gently held his lover's sex; the pressure of his wet tongue became all the harder, slickening the rigid flesh. Pleased, Urahara carefully arched his back, moaning praise for the boy.

"Oh god, Ichigo, ah - that's so good, so good..."

Encouraged, the redhead began to focus his attention on the sensitive head of Urahara's arousal, fully aware of the pleasure it would inspire in him. He experimentally tongued the small slit there, returning the favor the man had paid him. For the blond, the view alone was enough to call them even: Ichigo was blushing, lips swollen and glossy, eyes half-hooded as he sucked the man's sex, periodically letting his searing gaze flutter up to meet his own.

Urahara moaned deeply and abruptly when the boy tentatively slid his cock into his mouth, parting those plump lips to suck down what he could, choking slightly and panting hard. He couldn't resist bringing a hand down to tenderly stroke along the boy's smooth shoulder, the nape of his neck, the shockingly silken mess of his hair. Urahara did not push him, or even urge him lower - he only caressed him, winning a shiver in return.

"Take - take what you can, baby. Use your fingers for the rest."

And there was an irritated murmur around his sex - most likely a protest to the pet name - and those fingers tightened on him. The vibration and pressure had him gasping, breathing Ichigo's name, stilling his hips with all his strength.

"Ichigo - could you, ah, please - suck?"

Again that fiery gaze met Urahara's and the boy breathed in deep before attempting what his lover had begged, dipping his head up and down, dragging his cheeks around his thick cock. He could taste the fluid dripping onto his tongue and he did his best to keep on without a cough, to pay more attention to the urgent patterns Urahara's fingers were tracing along his shoulders.

"That's it, that's - ah!" the blond tossed his head back and began panting sharply, wincing here and there from the occasional scrape of teeth. He judged by Ichigo's quickened pace and erratic breathing that he was becoming tired, jaw aching, and so he took it upon himself to finish quickly, conjuring images of the boy in all states of undress, how he looked beneath him just seconds before orgasm, the view from between his legs, the time he dropped by the shop in his school uniform -

"Ichigo, I'm - I'm coming, I'm -"

And he held himself unnaturally still, hips straining from the need, flexing, and gave a sharp, strangled cry as he spilled his seed into the boy's warm mouth, filling it and a bit more; Ichigo hadn't thought to take it deep at the warning; a few small drops trailed down his chin as he pulled back, gasping and coughing.

"Ah! That's - nasty!" he shouted, practically stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom to fill a glass of water and spit a few times.

Urahara, for his part, simply laid in place and waited for his breathing to still as the pleasant afterglow spread through him. When he sat up slightly to seek the boy out, he found that he was in the process of tugging his shirt over his head. Urahara frowned.

"Naa, Ichigo. Running off so soon? You treat me like a cheap prostitute!"

Ichigo yanked his shirt down and scowled, stilling for a moment to cross his arms over his chest - it was, after all, terribly cold outside...

"Yeah, well, uh, what else am I supposed to do, pervert?"

Urahara supposed he had been waiting on an invitation, deciding as usual that anything remotely resembling foreplay or affectionate touching was too effeminate for him.

"Lie down with me?"

"I ain't tired," the boy grunted.

"But it's so cold out, Ichigo, and I'm so lonely! Just a moment under the blankets with me."

"I ain't cold," he muttered, taking a hesitant step toward the bed.

"Humor me?"

He shed his shirt once more and slid beneath the covers Urahara had peeled back for him, nestling into the warmth their bodies had created. He shivered lightly, turning his back to the blond. Urahara gently draped his arm over Ichigo's narrow waist, holding him close as he gently caressed his chest and stomach, pressing soft kisses to his neck and shoulder.

"So, Ichigo," he murmured quietly, "what do you want for Christmas this year?"

"Video games," the boy replied simply, voice already tinged with a yawn, "and maybe some cool shirts and stuff. I always get lame stuff though..."

"You make me feel positively criminal sometimes," the blond chuckled, nuzzling him.

"What do you mean, you old" - he finally did yawn - "perverted bastard..."

And Urahara had been prepared to let him go after a few moments' warmth, but he found it would not be necessary: five minutes in and Ichigo had already fallen asleep in his arms. He carefully reached to turn off his lamp, and then settled back against the boy, tucking the blankets up over his chilly ears.

"Good night to you too, Ichigo."

And somewhere in his dreams, the boy smiled.

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**Thanks for the read! Please review~!**


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